


A Hopper’s Tale

by Mafief



Series: The Marylebone Monthly Illustrated [11]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 13:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mafief/pseuds/Mafief
Summary: Gary the Grasshopper finds himself on the fence overlooking a park. He encounters a rabbit that is not really a rabbit, but the Ferret dressed as a rabbit. A tale from Gary's point of view of some of his adventures in 221B Baker Street.





	A Hopper’s Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Small_Hobbit!

My name is Gary, that is Gary the grasshopper. I come from a long line of distinguished and well-regarded grasshopper thespians and musicians. Have you ever heard of the great composers Hopspear or Beethopovian? No? Well, no matter, for they have little to do with my story.

My story starts when I was blown about on a strong wind gust. I found myself on a black spear overlooking a tempting field of grass, and I should know grass being a grasshopper. I was hurt and disoriented from my trip and, above all, I was hungry. The grass looked inviting and the perfect meal for a hungry bug like myself. I crawled gracefully--no, that is a lie. I fell from my perch and landed with a thud on the ground. As I was filling my empty stomach, I realized that I had no idea where I was. 

Just then I saw a rabbit hopping towards me. Rabbits and grasshoppers often encounter each other while grazing and often become companions. At home I have had the most engaging conversation about leaf expansion corresponding to tenderness with a very chatty hare. I flagged down the creature and it stopped in front of me.

“Dear rabbit, I am Gary. I am lost and hurt. Please help.” I did my customary bow and when I looked up I froze in terror. In front of me was no longer a rabbit but a ferret dressed as a rabbit and sitting on its haunches. I just admitted to being injured and injury meant certain death for us grasshoppers who reside at the bottom of the food chain.

The ferret looked down as I cowered in fear. “I’m not going to eat you, but I was told not to get distracted.”

I looked up and saw that the ferret was trying its best to be non-threatening. “Oh please! Please help,” I said. The ferret wrung his paws together and the ears from the costume flopped around as the ferret looked about. The rabbit costume had buttons running down the front and the one closest to his round belly was missing. The costume had seen better days.

He studied me a bit and took pity on me. “I’ll take you to get help. Get on.” With that, he got on all fours and gestured with his head for me to climb on his back. There must be a method on how to properly ride on the back of a ferret, and I was unaware of it. For a moment I wished that I was back being tumbled about on the wind that brought me here. Thankfully, the ferret soon stopped in front of a black door.

Once inside I dismounted. He scampered up the steps to, presumably, the upstairs room. I was grateful because the thought of riding on his back again made me queasy. My struggle to climb the first step made me realize that dismounting was a bad idea. The steps were ginormous and I am quite small--this was going to take a while. Just then, the door opened and a tall human entered. I flattened myself against the wooden staircase and tried to blend in. The human started up the stairs and paused. Before I knew it, I was scooped up and carried between the palms.

That’s it! I thought. I will be squished for sure. Within my fleshy prison I heard the quick footsteps against the stairs, a creaking sound, and muffled voices.

“Ferret! Look at what you did to your costume. It will need to be repaired.” Said one voice.

I knew the Ferret’s voice and the Ferret said, “I know, but I was following the Whitaker brothers and the bramble was thick.”

Two higher pitched female voice tsk-tsk-ed. I couldn’t make out their words, but they sounded like they were scolding the Ferret as well.

“I know,” replies Ferret. “I was going to be here sooner but--“

“Did you get distracted?” Said another voice. How many creatures were in this place? I thought.

“Yes. No. Well, maybe. I was helping. I brought a grasshopper here and left him downstairs.”

My captor said, “Ah, well Ferret, in that respect you are wrong for I have it here.” He opened his long fingers and my sight adjusted to bright light of the place. I forgave the man for not knowing I was a _he_ because it can be difficult to tell grasshopper genders apart. When I could finally see, I almost fainted at the sight. In addition to a ferret, I could see a sloth slowly carrying the torn costume, an ocelot, a mole, and a vole.

The man placed me down on the table and said, “Mouselet and Aemilia, can you tend to the grasshopper? Ferret needs to tell me what he heard.”

The mouse and vole approached me and again I froze in terror. We feared mice and voles. My poor heart does not like this much excitement! They reassured me that I was safe and wouldn’t be eaten because they preferred crumbs left over from something called an inspector. They asked me my name and where I was from. My travel with the wind must have scrambled my poor bug brain and I could not remember where I was from. I was in a pitiful state and was invited to stay while I recuperated. Mouselet and Aemilia made me a small home in a matchbox on the mantel and cared for me. 

I slowly worked myself into the routine of my new surroundings. The most confusion involved customs regarded what to eat and what _not_ to eat. When a bouquet of flowers arrived from something called a client, I assumed it was for lunch and ate it. I soon learned that humans send flowers as gifts to be _looked_ at and not eaten. The absurdity of it all! This practice is foreign in hopper societies. The Ocelot kindly schooled me on the plethora of strange human customs. 

While I recovered, I watched this gang of creatures help the two men, who I later learned were named Holmes and Watson. There were other costumes constructed for the Ferret to wear and he went on these fantastic adventures which I eagerly listened to when he got back. I told him grasshopper mythos and he told me about something called a “super hero”. I’m not entirely sure what that is, but Ferret likes it. Ferret also got into other mischief, which was an endless source of entertainment during my recuperation. Once, Mouselet was making frosting roses to decorate cupcakes for a friend. Ferrate ate leftover red frosting and his frightening new looked briefly startled Watson until he figured out what had happened. 

I became more adventurous as I got my strength back. On a warm summer day, I sat on a bottle of ink and watched the Ocelot edit an edition of _Marylebone Monthly Illustrated_. I was waiting to read the latest contributions from Inky Quill, a poet who I met later and enjoyed immensely. As I waited, my feet were covered in ink from my perch on the ink bottle. It seemed only natural that I engage in writing, so I add Hoparian to Watson’s scribbles. My take was an epic retelling of the grasshopper drama of Rip Van Hopper. This tale is passed down from only the eldest grasshopper to the worthiest grasshopper and was the lucky grasshopper in my community. Writing the tale made me remember my home and I longed to be back to pass on this, and other hopper traditions, to the next generation of grasshoppers.

Some nights, and other odd times of the day, the one named Holmes would play a violin. I ached to play with him, but I was still healing. The first night I was well enough to play, I will never forget. It was at that moment, gentle reader, I remembered my home.

My home, oh! My home was beautiful. Fields of grass that were so green and perfect for grasshoppers. The humans had erected a castle long ago, but it was abandoned. All that was left were two tall, grey towers. The day I was swept away, I remembered playing in the sunlight and pouring my heart into my song for my beloved to find me. I played until the sun set and still my beloved never came. It was when I moved to a higher place to project my song further into the air that the wind picked me up and tossed me about until I was dropped onto that fence.

I eagerly described my home to Holmes and Watson. They agreed that it could be what the humans call Donnington Castle. I could go home! The possibility of going home filled my heart and I dedicated myself to getting better at as fast as I could. Grasshoppers has such a short lifespan compared to humans and the animals living at 221B Baker Street. I wished to find my beloved once again and play for her.

At last, you have reached the end of my adventures at 221B Baker Street. Today I am well enough to go home. Watson will be accompanying me, and I will be sitting on the brim of his hat during the journey. I am a mixture of excitement and nervousness and my bug gut is tying itself in knots. I have left this summary and more detailed records of my adventures, in Hoparian, with The Gang. To them, I give my eternal thanks for their kindness and hospitality. May our paths cross again in the future. 

Fare thee well!


End file.
